


Thaw

by pollitt



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M, Post-Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Napoleon debrief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Maverick for the cheerleading, title, and helping with the ending.
> 
> A Cold War quiz defines **thaw** as _the warming of relations between USSR and USA_.

Napoleon stepped out of the bathroom, his towel slung dangerously low around his waist and a plume of steam following him like it just could not get enough of him.  

Illya was not surprised, given the amount of time Napoleon had spent in there, and the impeccable way he presented himself every day, that there was no trace of the mud and  waste that had covered him nearly head to toe when they’d slipped into the room earlier.  

His skin was still damp, pink where he'd certainly scrubbed hard, and Illya could smell the slightly floral scent of the soap the hotel no doubt had provided. When Napoleon stepped within reach, Illya couldn't resist grabbing his waist and leaning down to kiss the spot where Napoleon’s neck and shoulder met..

There was a chuckle that Illya could feel as much as hear. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, there was room service delivered while I was in the shower." Napoleon said, turning his head to offer more of his neck. "Not that I'm going to fault you for your, pardon the pun, taste."

Illya laughed, biting the muscle at Napoleon's shoulder hard enough to elicit a quick draw of breath from the man in his arms but not quite hard enough to bruise. There were enough bruises on Napoleon’s body that one more would not rouse suspicion, but he did not want to be the cause of another marr to Solo’s skin. He moved his hand to cover a bloom of dark purple that had begun to form at Napoleon’s side. Their opponents had not been too formidable, but that didn’t mean he and Napoleon escaped untouched.

“There’s nothing like the deep purples and blues of a bruise and red urine to keep the memory of a kidney punch fresh in one’s mind,” Napoleon said. He moved as though to turn and face Illya, but Illya stopped him. Napoleon obeyed and continued in his even tone. “Who knew such a small man would be so agile. Or strong.”

Napoleon leaned back and Illya wrapped his arms around Napoleon’s waist. “Thank you, by the way, for taking care of him.”

Illya had been busy with his own assailants when he heard Napoleon’s groans of pain. He’d made quick work of them and had broken Napoleon’s man’s hands before he could land his next blow.

“You are welcome.” Illya slid his fingers between the towel and Napoleon’s skin, letting them run along the line of Napoleon’s hip as the did so.

"Is the door locked?" Napoleon asked, tightening his hold on the towel, a slight crack in his usually smooth voice indicating a thin line of caution.

“Yes," Illya affirmed, kissing the side of Napoleon’s neck. He pulled Napoleon closer. “The door knob is disabled as well.”

"Even better.” Napoleon’s grip eased, the towel barely covering him. Illya could feel movement against the fabric that let him know Napoleon’s interest was rising.

“And I made sure we would have warning in case anyone tries to come snooping.” Illya’s lips brushed against Napoleon’s temple.

The towel dropped to the floor and Napoleon turned.

“Normally I’d say you were being overly cautious, but that clerk at the front desk was too. . . _interested_  for my liking.” Napoleon pressed his very naked body against Illya’s and pulled Illya’s face down for a kiss.

“Knives and fists and warheads are easy,” Napoleon continued, his face and voice turning serious. As though they were not standing in the middle of a hotel room with Illya’s hands palming his bare buttocks, keeping him close. “The wrong people finding out too much information. That’s something I’d rather avoid. I like you just where you are.”

Napoleon’s fingers found the buttons of Illya’s shirt. “But perhaps with less clothing.”


End file.
